


Don't Need Anything Else, Just Need You

by babyfairy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, PWP, Shameless Smut, Smut, are they commando under their suits??? yes yes they are, it's what they deserve, slightly dom!shiro, slightly sub!allura, well very slight plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-25 19:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12042762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyfairy/pseuds/babyfairy
Summary: She turns to him and her eyes are glowing stars that call to him from behind her helmet. He wants her, he wants her badly, he wants her now.





	Don't Need Anything Else, Just Need You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Littlespacestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlespacestars/gifts).



> A birthday present for my favorite small animal! Happy birthday, Casey, I hope you've enjoyed your birthday weekend!!  
> Please excuse the very poor and very lame plot, I just needed something to preface the smut.

Though he might never admit it out loud, Shiro thrives on the adrenaline that comes from a fight.  A purple bot crumples beneath his hand, the one behind it falling victim to the swing of his bayard. He doesn't miss a beat as he charges the next three moving to replace their broken comrades.

The rush of it in his veins, the wild thumping of his heart, the air rushing in and out of his lungs, the sweat on the back of his neck, in the confines of his armor, it all reminds him that he is very much alive.

Those three bots hardly stand a chance.

As they fall, Shiro allows himself a small reprieve to catch his breath. His weapons hang at his sides, glowing in the dim light of the base. And then he's off again, heading for the group surrounding the princess.

But she doesn't need his help. She hardly ever does.

The light of the blue Bayard glows electric as it swings through the air, wraps around the torsos of two of the droids. Allura twists her wrists, tugs harshly, and the bots cave inward under her strength. She ducks out of the way of a shot and whips around, the Bayard already responding to her, but she uses her foot instead, kicking the droid with so much force that its chest meets its back. 

Shiro is helpless for a moment, unable to tear his eyes away from Allura. She moves as fluidly as water, striking with the force of a tsunami intending on tearing apart everything in sight - her victim is wrenched apart, head torn from the shoulders. Its body collapses in a heap of useless metal and she throws the head, knocking down four other bots.

Desire pulses through Shiro's blood. It hits him suddenly, memories of a few nights ago; thin fingers pressing him into the mattress with more force than anyone would expect - strength that completely defies the delicacy of her otherworldly looks - her hips undulating over his, his cock buried so deeply inside of her, that thick mass of white hair curtaining them so that the look of raw, breathless pleasure was for his eyes only, alien markings glowing vibrantly in the darkness shrouding them.

The same desire gathers hot and heavy against his thigh. 

Shiro swallows hard, forces himself to focus. He cuts through one bot with his hand, another with his Bayward. They're leaving a steady trail of misshapen metal around them; some of the bots twitch, some spark. It's a battle field littered with mangled machinery instead of human flesh. 

His chest is heaving when he reaches Allura, but the adrenaline is still running high. Allura snaps her wrist to bring her whip back to her; it flashes through the air in a shock of blue, and then it's gone, returned to its original form. She turns to him and her eyes are glowing stars that call to him from behind her helmet. He wants her, he wants her badly, he wants her now. But they aren't out of the woods yet, so he leads her forward. Their footsteps pound through the room in a rhythm that demands to be heard, pounds in Shiro's blood to an intense tempo.

Shiro stops at the door and turns back to the room. They've left a metal massacre in their wake. He shifts his Bayard into a gun slightly smaller than Hunk's and takes aim, firing three shots at each data base in the room. They've gotten the information they need and he doesn't want anyone else getting a hold of it. 

The Black Lion looms over the base. The impenetrable barrier around her dissolves as Shiro and Allura approach, and Black crouches down to let them inside. Instantly Shiro feels secure, safe inside of his Lion. Her energy is calm and sure; in here, he has control. He drops into the pilot's chair and awakens the controls, launches the Lion into the sky. Her path is set to return to the castle, taking them far away from danger at an incredible speed. 

Allura moves past the chair. Coran's voice is audible as she checks in, one hip against the console. Shiro's eyes follow her. He chews his lip and adjusts the course, just enough that they'll skirt around a few asteroid belts before returning to the castle. He moves to the edge of his seat, stands slowly.

Shiro removes his helmet and sets it down beside the chair, watching Allura. Her hands rest on her helmet as she reports back to Coran. Once the conversation ends, she removes it. Her fingers pluck apart the carefully formed knot on top of her head, and her hair comes tumbling out like clouds rolling across her shoulders, glowing in the dim light of the cockpit. Shiro inhales quietly. The pink wings on her cheeks are bright, a slight sheen of sweat coating her skin. His mouth feels dry and, suddenly, he just can't wait any longer.

Shiro catches Allura gently by the arm and turns her to him. He presses close to her, body crowding hers, and claims her mouth in a fierce kiss. She responds instantly, body going pliant as her arms circle his neck, one hand pressed to the back of his head to hold him to her. Her enthusiasm matches his, and even after all this time, it still thrills him that she wants him as intensely as he wants her. 

He removes her armor between kisses, lets it clatter to the floor around them until she's in only the black suit underneath - the skin tight suit that outlines every inch of her body, the suit that is currently driving him wild. Shiro reaches for the zipper beneath her hair and tugs it down to the top of her backside, tries to tug the offending material from her shoulders, but Allura knocks his hands away. She reaches for his armor, as needy as he is, and tugs it away. It scatters around the floor with hers, splotches of pink and black and white surrounding them. 

Shiro returns to his task and pulls the suit away from Allura, helps her out of it. He kisses each inch of skin exposed to him - shoulder, collarbone, pays special attention to her breasts, the valley between them, worships the hard muscles of her abdomen as they tighten under his insistent mouth. Above him, Allura moans. Her fingers glide through his hair, tug gently on the white tuft, sending a fissure of pleasure racing through his blood. He shoves the material aside, wanting it as far away as possible. His body is aching for hers, begging to be inside of her, but first, he has to taste her.

He nudges her thighs apart and buries his face between them, latches on to the most sensitive part of her. His tongue drags through her lips, swirls around her clit, drinks in the juices spilling from her core. She's incredibly wet already, coating his mouth, his chin, warm and sticky like honey. Shiro hums against her, drunk on her unique taste, and drags his tongue back down to plunge inside of her.

Allura cries out. She grips his bangs in a tight fist, holding him in place - as if he would dare to go anywhere else. He thrusts his tongue inside of her, teasing her with what's to come. Allura moans again, breathless, music to his ears. Her hips rock against his face, riding on his tongue for more, more, more. He knows she's becoming impatient, can tell by the way she pulls at his hair, the way she whines above him, the way her hips writhe against his mouth.

Somewhere behind them Shiro can hear the distant sound of voices coming from their helmets. Someone is trying to contact one of them, likely one of the Paladins wanting to know where they are, but Shiro can't be bothered to care. His cock is hard and aching, chafing against the restricting material of his suit. Every cell in his body is screaming for his lover. Reluctantly, Shiro pulls away. His heart is pounding against his ribs, pounding desire through his blood. He smirks when Allura whines, holds still for her to unzip his suit, to push it down his body.

Cool air rushes over his bare skin like a blessing. Shiro exhales softly. Every nerve feels on fire, every inch of him overly sensitive. He rises to his feet, steps out of his suit, kicks it aside. Shiro cups Allura's face in his hands and kisses her again, deeply, tongue sliding across her lower lip teasingly. He presses against her, shivering when her nails scrape across his shoulders. Her hips grind against his with a feverish need that demands to be sated immediately. 

Shiro circles Allura's throat in a loose hold, drags his prosthetic fingers down her chest. He drops both hands to her hips and turns her around, presses his hips to her backside. Allura inhales sharply, loudly, and leans forward. She widens her stance for him, spreads her legs, and arches against Shiro, sliding the wetness of her entrance against his cock. Shiro groans loudly. The sound is raw, fractured in places. His hold on her hips tightens and he slides into her, watches himself disappear until his hips are flush against her.

Allura's breath catches in her throat, and Shiro gives her no time to adjust. He pulls back, almost pulls out completely, and thrusts into her, building a steady pace of one hard, sure stroke after another. Allura's moans fill the space around them, soft little keens that run down Shiro's spine. She presses her palms against the console, turns on several panels that bathe the richness of her brown skin in lavender light. The pink markings decorating her body glow with her arousal - begging for Shiro's touch. He grabs a fistful of her thick hair and tugs her head back, leans down to drag his tongue along the length of a stripe winding over her shoulder. Allura lets out a soft cry in response; her markings are terribly sensitive. Shiro scrapes his teeth across the marking, presses hot kisses along the length of it. When he reaches the crook of her neck, he bites down with just enough force to leave behind a small mark, timing it with a particularly hard thrust. 

Allura gasps unsteadily. She scrabbles at the console, fingers raking across so many controls and buttons, turning on so many little gadgets, but neither of them notice. She reaches back and grips the back of Shiro's neck, hard enough to mark his skin with the imprint of her fingers. Shiro moans into her neck, picks up his pace, pounds into her with reckless abandon. He presses his free hand to her stomach to hold her to him. She's tight, hot and wet, somehow a perfect fit for him, and the sensations threaten to steal his very sanity with each stroke. 

"Takashi," Allura breathes. Her voice is frayed, ragged at the edges. "Takashi, please-" Her fingers curl around his wrist in a vice like grip, needing to touch any part of him she can, needing to feel every bit of him against her. 

Shiro grunts, hips bucking against hers. He knows she's close; he can feel her walls beginning to clench around his cock. He's close, too, fire building and building and building inside of him, threatening to rupture at any second. Shiro kisses along Allura's neck, soothes the already red spot created by his teeth, and tugs on her hair turn her head. Blindly he finds her mouth and presses hot, messy kisses to her lips. 

His skin is on fire; it's impossible to hear anything over Allura's moans, over his own ragged breathing, over the pounding of his heart. He thinks, somewhere in the back of his mind, that if his heart were to suddenly give out, well, he'd be perfectly happy to die like this. 

Gripping his wrist, his neck, Allura's spine arches, curves with threat of snapping beneath the intensity of their combined pleasure. Shiro thrusts faster, knowing that they're both on the verge of coming. He buries his face in Allura's neck and gives into everything overwhelming them, pushing them both closer and closer to the edge they're on.

Allura falls first, tumbles over sharply. She cries out loudly and arches further still, breathless and trapped as the orgasm crashes over her. Her walls clench tightly around Shiro's cock, convulsing with the force of her orgasm, and it sends him careening after her. Shiro cries out as well, the sound muffled against Allura's neck. He thrusts wildly, cresting on the wave, slowing only as the pleasure ebbs away. The tension leaves them both in an instant and the only thing keeping Allura up is the hold Shiro has on her. She slumps against him, trembling, and lets her head hang forward for a moment.

Shiro pulls out carefully, grimacing at the sensitivity. Exhaling slowly, he turns Allura around and gathers her in his arms, then takes a few steps back and drops into the seat behind him. His skin is still so hot that the chair feels like ice beneath him, but he welcomes the cold. Allura huffs a breath and moves her hair; it's sticking everywhere, to her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders, to Shiro's chest, stomach, arms. He laughs quietly at the sight and helps her wrestle the strands into place, watching with a lazy smile as she ties it back. Somehow she manages to perfect the knot. It shouldn't surprise him at this point, but it still does.

Shiro closes his eyes for a moment. He feels completely and properly satiated, satisfied and happy. Allura settles into him and kisses his cheek, making him smile.

"That was certainly something," She muses. Her voice is still raw at the edges. It creates a bud of satisfaction inside of him.

"I've told you before, I can't be held responsible for my actions when I see you in action. It's really your fault. No one should look so attractive while crushing metal with their hands."

Allura's laughter fills the air and warms Shiro to the very depths of his soul. He opens his eyes to grin at her, tilts his head to meet her for the kiss she leans down to bestow on him. Her fingers, still trembling, tug at his bangs. "You're terrible." 

His grin widens. "That's not what you where thinking a minute ago." He brings her hand down to kiss the heel of it.

On the floor beside the chair, the sound of a voice catches his attention, and Shiro realizes someone is still trying to reach him. He gives Allura a sheepish smile and reaches for his helmet, slides it onto his head to hear better. Allura presses a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. He's sure the sight of him naked with only his helmet on is video worthy. Thank God there isn't a phone readily available.

Shiro checks in with the Paladin trying to reach him, listening to Keith yell at him for taking so long to answer. He's patient as he reassures him and side steps the questions about just what exactly is taking them so long to get home. All the while, his fingers lazily stroke Allura's hips, trailing over the swirl of pink leading to the inside of her thigh. She shivers and bites her lip, blue eyes darkening with a promise of retaliation.

Shiro smirks. "We'll be back soon, Keith," He says, "Don't worry. I'll check in if anything goes wrong." Shiro removes his helmet and turns off the communication link, effectively silencing his demanding little brother. He tugs Allura closer, fingers tangling in her snowy hair once more.

"I think they can wait a bit longer," He murmurs, lips skimming along her shoulder teasingly. Her laughter surrounds him again, and she shifts to straddle him, a sight he could gaze upon for days. Allura kisses him, and Shiro fumbles around the floor for her helmet, poking at the inside of it until he finds the spot he needs to shut off her link as well. He doesn't want them to be bothered for a while.


End file.
